


Who's Afraid of the Dark?

by anarchycox



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Comforting, Gentle Sex, Honest Conversations, M/M, Soft sex, conversations in the dark, geralt using his words, relationships, secret fears, set in a vague post season 1 time, they are not emotionally constipated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23246572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier are in bed and very comfortable post sex, and have a quiet conversation about what they are scared of. There is gentle sex and gentle words, and these guys understanding each other.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 51
Kudos: 509





	Who's Afraid of the Dark?

He liked the weight on Jaskier on his chest. Geralt found himself running his hand up and down Jaskier’s naked back as he always did when they were thus. Jaskier had been silent for about ten minutes, as he always was after riding Geralt’s cock, and then he would start talking. Slowly, quietly. It was the time where Jaskier was laid bare. 

Geralt laughed quietly to himself because no shit Jaskier was laid bare, they were in bed, well fucked. Jaskier only stayed mostly clothed when they fucked in the woods, or behind a tavern when they were feeling adventurous. But the second they had a room, Jaskier was naked and had Geralt in the same state not long after. Geralt had no objections to this. 

But he had realized how much over the decades he had fallen for the public persona of Jaskier. Just how much of his blather and drama was a con. And he had never noticed. It was a wonder that Jaskier kept coming back to him. But then, he provided for Jaskier too. They were well matched in the end. 

Tonight Jaskier was listing what he was scared of. And not the Yennefer and spiders jokes that he usually made. 

That he’d be forgotten.

That his family was right, and he was useless.

That he would be struck mute, or lose fingers, anything that would kill his music. Geralt pulled Jaskier’s hand to his mouth, and kissed the calluses on the finger tips. Gentle, soft kisses that he didn’t even know if Jaskier felt through the deadened skin. The way Jaskier seemed to try to burrow right into Geralt suggested though that even if he didn’t feel it, he appreciated it. 

Jaskier was quiet and Geralt knew it wasn’t the quiet of being done, and that Jaskier was about to drift off to sleep. It was the quiet of being scared of saying whatever would come next.

“Say it,” Geralt ordered softly. “Whatever it is, I’ll protect you from it.”

Jaskier chuckled a bit, and Geralt felt the rumble of it against his skin. “Most of all I am scared that one morning you’ll remember how much you hate me, and be gone and this time I’ll never see you again.”

What the fuck?

Geralt rolled them over, pushed up a bit so he loomed over Jaskier. “I have never hated you.” Jaskier gave him a flat look. “Very well, the first five or so years I knew you, I didn’t particularly like you, but I never hated you. That I swear.” He pressed down a bit, let his weight rest on Jaskier, pressed their foreheads together. “I always used to tell you Witchers don’t have emotions. Because you made me feel more than anyone ever did.” He stayed like that. “You make me feel too many things, Jaskier, but I promise none of them are hate.”

“Are you staying like that so I can be impressed by how your arms look flexed?” Jaskier said, and Geralt dropped his full weight on him. He enjoyed the uff and groan that came out of Jaskier, and lingered for a moment before he rolled.

“Time, circumstances, fucking bullshit destiny might separate us for a while, I can’t stop that,” Geralt said softly and kissed Jaskier’s neck. “But if I live, I will always come for you. Find you.”

“Why?”

“Because you have a great ass.” Jaskier elbowed him and cursed when he hurt himself more than Geralt. “And because in everything that you make me feel? Love is in there too.” He never could quite manage to just say I love you, the way Jaskier did, but he knew Jaskier understood him. Jaskier went quiet, and this was the settled quiet, so Geralt let his mind drift to a meditative place. Sometimes he fell asleep when Jaskier did, sometimes he didn’t. But he rested all the same.

“What are you scared of?”

“Hmm?” Geralt blinked, forced himself to focus, but he was warm and satiated and wanted to just breathe Jaskier in.

“What are you truly scared of?” Jaskier asked. 

“Ghosts,” Geralt replied after a moment, being utterly honest with his partner. He felt Jaskier shove and quickly let go. “Jaskier?” He wondered if the man had to piss, or such. But even in the shadows of the dark room he could see that Jaskier was angry. “What’s wrong?” Jaskier sometimes had these intrusive thoughts where all of a sudden he’d think of a fight from years ago, a situation that sent him into fight or flight and Geralt sat up. He lit the lamp next to the bed. “Jaskier, it is fine. We are in an inn, have just had really spectacular sex, all is well.”

Only Jaskier was reaching for his trousers. “You mock me, now?” Jaskier shouted. “I lay myself out, and you fucking joke? I love your poor sense of humour most of the time Geralt but not now. Not in this moment.”

Geralt found himself a bit hurt that Jaskier thought he was joking. “I’m not joking,” Geralt said and Jaskier paused. They stared at each other. The silence was heavy, and Jaskier came back over, dropping his trousers on the floor. He stopped near the bed but didn’t climb on. “I don’t lie to you.” He might not tell Jaskier everything, but these days he never lied to the bard.

“No, you don’t,” Jaskier agreed. He straddled Geralt’s lap, and this time it was Jaskier to press his forehead to Geralt’s. “I’m sorry.”

Geralt nudged him a little closer, so that Jaskier’s ass was rested on his soft cock. The way Jaskier squirmed a bit though would change that state soon enough. Geralt hugged him, held him close. Jaskier’s head moved to his shoulder, his hand tracing patterns on the other shoulder. Geralt knew that he could leave it at that. But he wouldn’t. Because he liked sharing himself with Jaskier in these quiet moments.

“Every Witcher has that one monster, the one that makes their blood run cold. They always figure out which it is and in your trials they make you face it. I was left for three days with no food in a haunted house. The ghosts screamed at me, begged me, cut at me. You can’t kill a ghost, Jaskier. So much training, years of it, all for one purpose to make sure I can kill everything out there. But you can’t kill a ghost.”

“I thought they could be banished? Or if they died with unfinished business, you could solve that and poof?” Jaskier’s voice was quiet.

“Banishment is a temporary solution. They come back. And the other does work, but they have to be coherent enough to get that across to you. Ghosts deteriorate so quickly, a year or two and they are just the emotions that they died with. And you cannot help them.” Geralt closed his eyes. “Everything I know, everything I do, is to help. And for a ghost I can do nothing. If they are ravaging a village, a home, I can do little. My sword cannot cut them down. I cannot smell them coming. At most I can entrap them. Lay salt and words and bind them to their grave. But it does not free their soul.”

“Is that why graveyards always feel like they are screaming?”

Geralt nodded.

“There’s more to it,” Jaskier said. Geralt felt him shift on his lap and grind down. He automatically thrust up against the pressure. Jaskier kissed him, pushed his tongue into Geralt’s mouth and Geralt thought that was a poor way to get an answer to a question, filling a man’s mouth like that. Jaskier was moving his ass along Geralt’s cock, and Geralt moaned against him. They didn’t often fuck twice in a night, Jaskier usually too worn out. Sometimes the smell of him lingered enough in Geralt’s mind that he would wank once Jaskier was asleep, or sometimes Jaskier was awake and watched him, that was always fun. But tonight it seemed they would go again.

He would much rather fuck than answer Jaskier’s statement. Geralt stroked a hand down Jaskier’s back, was ready to roll them over, but Jaskier shook his head. “Like this,” Jaskier said and Geralt nodded. Their hands moved over each other, soothing and arousing at the same time. Jaskier kept rocking his ass over Geralt’s cock. Geralt reached for the oil on the table. 

“How are you?”

“Still good,” Jaskier replied. “Just fuck me.” Geralt rolled his eyes, because he wanted to make sure, but Jaskier nipped his teeth at Geralt’s neck. “I said just fuck me,” Jaskier repeated.

Fine then. Geralt slicked up his cock stroking a bit as he did so, and Jaskier lifted his hips and then slowly sank down. He was still open, but when he would have pushed down fast, Geralt slowed him. “Hungry tonight,” Geralt said and maybe he was a little smug over how much Jaskier wanted his dick. Who wouldn’t be when such a gorgeous man wanted him so desperately. He realized that he often called Jaskier gorgeous in his head, but seldom out loud. “You are gorgeous,” he said.

“I know,” Jaskier grinned at him and lifted up a bit, sank back down. “You are compelling.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replied and his hands squeezed a bit hard on Jaskier’s hips.

“Well if I tell you how beautiful you are, your head might swell to the size of your giant perfectly muscled thighs, and you’d be insufferable.”

Insufferable was generally the word associated with Jaskier, not Geralt.

It was a slow fuck, both of them more interested in the closeness, not chasing the orgasm. Jaskier kept kissing his shoulder, neck, jaw. Geralt touched Jaskier everywhere, except the man’s cock, until Jaskier bit him again and begged. He then cupped his hand around Jaskier and squeezed. He loved the weight of Jaskier’s cock in his hand.

“Tell me, what it is that you really fear about ghosts,” Jaskier whispered.

“Now?” Geralt swatted his ass. “Aren’t we a bit busy?”

“Exactly, you can blame your honesty on the perfection of being buried in my ass. Your stoic reputation can remain intact.” Jaskier rocked down, and Geralt found himself laughing and moaning at the same time. “Saying your fear when experiencing joy, will banish the fear,” Jaskier whispered and kissed him. “A magic spell, I made up, just now.”

Geralt cupped Jaskier’s face. The man was the most absurd and perfect thing the gods had ever created. “One day, a monster is going to kill me, and I will become a ghost, and I will hurt someone because they can no longer understand me.” He rolled them over, and the pace of the sex changed, he became desperate. He couldn’t speak anymore just pushed hard in and out of Jaskier, using him a bit, knowing Jaskier would give him everything. Geralt was wrapped in Jaskier’s arms and legs, Jaskier’s mouth sucking bruises into his skin. “That I will haunt woods and you’ll never ever learn how much you meant to me.” Geralt pushed into Jaskier and his body went rigid as the orgasm rolled over him. His breath was choppy and his heart was almost racing. When he could focus he slid out of Jaskier and frowned when he realized Jaskier was still hard; he loathed neglecting the bard.

Geralt pushed down and began sucking Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier was silent as he always was when Geralt did this. It was a deep pleasure of his that his mouth could render Jaskier silent. When Jaskier came, Geralt swallowed every drop and moved up the bed again, wrapped his arms around Jaskier. There was no way after that, Jaskier would be able to form words. A second fuck generally knocked him cold.

And sure enough, Jaskier was snoring a few moments later. 

The next day they were off, Jaskier walking beside Roach, humming a song. Geralt snorted when he recognized the tune, one often sung in whorehouses. “You are cheerful this morning.”

“See, this magnificent creature fucked me into oblivious last night, puts a man in a good mood.” Jaskier began to sing the bawdy song, and Geralt found himself humming along. He smiled at the look of joy Jaskier gave him at that. It was a good morning. In the afternoon, Jaskier nodded and Geralt hauled him up onto Roach and when Jaskier’s hands rested against his stomach, Geralt squeezed one.

“You are not great at sharing your feelings, but I know them,” Jaskier said quietly. “I know what we are to each other, and I will never be your unfinished business.”

Geralt went very still at those words.

“I won’t let you ever become a ghost,” Jaskier promised, “This I swear.”

“And how would you stop it?”

“Not a fucking clue, but I will. I can’t stop you being afraid of ghosts themselves, but I can put that fear to rest. You will never hurt anyone after you are dead. You won’t have unfinished business, you will not be a ghost. Or barring that, I’ll become one too, so that we become so busy mutually haunting each other that no one is ever bothered by us. Think ghost fucking is as good as what we have now?”

Geralt’s laugh was loud enough to scare birds from the trees. He felt Jaskier hug him tight. “Very well,” Geralt said. “If I become a ghost, I will wait so that we can haunt each other.” It should be the most absurd thing he had ever heard, but it was in fact the most comforting. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Jaskier said. He began to sing that bawdy song again, and Geralt joined in. 

Decades of a fear buried deep, and Jaskier, of course Jaskier, eased that weight. He sang loudly until Jaskier pinched him, told him he was dreadful and dear gods above please go back to being a silent brooding Witcher. Geralt was enjoying annoying him, though, and just sang louder.

That night, Jaskier gagged Geralt during sex in retaliation. 

Geralt didn’t mind in the least.


End file.
